With Sun and Morning
by Oparu
Summary: postInsurrection tag. Beverly and Jean-Luc watch a sunrise.


She sits up in the grass, pulling the edge of the quilt tighter around her shoulders. "The dew's settling."

He pulls his side of the quilt in, staring at the pattern. "This should be in a museum, yet we're sitting on it in a field."

"It was a gift." Beverly lifts her shoulders and snuggles closer to heat of his body. He smells like woodsmoke and it reminds her of Nana and Caldos. "Gifts are meant to be used."

"A gift from an apprentice of thirty years." Jean-Luc shakes his head and slips his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "Can you imagine?"

"I think you'd finally be ready to play the flute with Will's little jazz band."

He chuckles and the sound echoes around them in the darkness before the dawn. The sky's grey above them, with just a hint of pink along the mountains. "Might need a little more time for that."

"You could have all the time in the universe." She turns her eyes to him, smiling at the way his fingers wrap around the edge of the quilt.

"I already do."

Beverly tilts her head closer, his ear touching her cheek. "Oh?"

"I like to know my life has limits, a finite amount of time makes each moment more precious."

She pulls away and he gently turns her back.

"Beverly?"

"I've been meaning to ask."

"About Anij?"

She looks away, fascinated by a bead of dew in the grass. She could let it go, forget about Anij and what she may or may not have to Jean-Luc. He's with her now, watching the sunrise, but maybe he'd rather be with Anij. Maybe he brought her out her to tell her he's marrying Anij, or thinking about retiring.

"It's not my place."

"What is your place?"

Beverly catches the drop of dew on her fingertip. It's cool for a moment, then warms to her skin. "Best friend?"

He catches her hand, lifting it up so her fingers are between them. "That sounded more like a question than a definitive."

"I don't know. There's a whole universe full of reasons why we I shouldn't be anything other than what we are, but there are moments."

Jean-Luc kisses her finger, taking the dew away. "Only moments?"

Her breath takes too long to fill her chest and she shivers. He tightens the arm around her shoulders.

Beverly rests her cheek against his, wishing she knew what to say. "What are we doing?"

"Now?"

"Now, yesterday, tomorrow-" She shuts her eyes and the sunrise is just enough to be a hint of light through her lids. She takes another breath, forcing the air in. "If you want to be with her, I'll support you. I want you to know that."

"Beverly-"

"That's what we are, aren't we? Very old friends."

The blanket falls from her shoulder, letting in the cool air. He rocks on his feet to crouch in front of her, his legs outside of hers.

"Perhaps we've let that get in the way."

"Of what exactly?" She shouldn't be dense, but it's the dance they do, treading around each other with words.

"Of what could be."

There's that point again. Last time she walked away, leaving the potential behind. She couldn't, not in that moment, but now, maybe now is different. There's less risk, less to lose; less chance that they'll both tear each other to pieces one mistake at a time.

"And that's what you want?"

He runs warm fingers along her chin, then drops his hands to her knees. "I want you."

"Very charming, Jean-Luc."

He smiles and warmth creeps all the way into his eyes. The lines around his eyes are softer, but they won't fade, no matter how long he's here. She likes the lines; they're a history of life well lived, years of study and duty. They're him.

"I thought it might be appropriate to get to the point."

Beverly lets the quilt fall, covering his hands with her own. "What do you want of me?"

"Everything you're willing to share."

She looks down, then up, past him towards the orange-pink glow of the sunrise. It haloes him with light, promising something, everything, that she's willing to offer.

"That might be more than you've bargained for." She leans forward, kissing his cheek and holding him against her.

"Name your price."

Her fingers slip down his neck, heading for his chest. "I want you."

He brushes her hair back away from her eyes. "I'll attempt to oblige."

Beverly can feel the warmth of his mouth close to hers. "Meet me halfway?"

'Seems like a good place to start." He grins, and she can feel the smile as she kisses him, claiming his lips for the moment.

He told her that she kissed him once, in another universe, but this is a first in this one. She's kissed him as a friend, at times almost a lover, but she's never kissed him, not like this. She's never gone searching for his soul.

Jean-Luc starts to pull back, but she keeps his mouth against hers. Grabbing him by his shirt, she keeps him nearly on top of her, making up for lost time. The cool air surrounds her but he's warm and solid. The grass beneath them hisses, almost whispering as they lay back. The dew will be all over the quilt, and she can feel it through her trousers but it doesn't matter.

She studies his mouth with her tongue, learning the shape of it. He welcomes her, gently reciprocating, kissing her with the calm of an older man and the excitement of youth. It's the planet, the radiation, something getting inside their heads, but she welcomes it. She hasn't lay outside, arms wrapped around her lover since her youth, a long time ago.

They take their time, turning the moment before dawn into one of infinite potential. The sun waits for them, holding just behind the mountains and lighting the sky. Jean-Luc wriggles out of his jacket, adding the leather to the ground beneath her head. She sits up to slip out of her own. They set it aside, reaching for each other again. It'll be cold, and they'll have to be quick, but time has finally given them this moment and they're not going to waste it.

She guides his hand up her chest, gliding it across one breast. His fingers rest over her heart for a moment, then return to explore the flesh she brought it past. The forgotten quilt is soft when they work together to take off her shirt. His follows and the heat of his chest chases away all the chill of the morning. He undoes her bra with none of youth's inexperience. He knows what he's doing and she knows exactly how to press her hips against him, how to tease and suck his neck without marking the skin.

She lifts her hips, pushing her trousers and underwear down as he slips out of his own. It's clumsy, the stuff of laughter and kisses broken with smiles. He pulls the quilt around her when she mounts him, his legs safe inside hers. He teases her breasts and her nipples respond to the contrast between the air and his hands. The kissing is the most hedonistic, stolen, luscious and full of endless promise. She breathes against his neck, resting on his chest. He's hot and erect against her stomach and she aches for connection.

Raising her head, Beverly smiles into the beginnings of the day and guides him in. They pause together, skin against skin, waiting for the moment to pulse within them and demand motion and the friction that comes with it. His skin almost steams in the cool air, and the contrast shivers through her. She rolls her hips against him, taking him deeper within her.

He whispers against her ear, flipping them both and bending back her leg to go deeper, harder. She usually doesn't orgasm like this, it's rare, something she can count on her hand, but it's him and this place, and then her teeth are tingling and heat rushes through her body, spreading life to all her cells.

"It's all right." She whispers when he pauses. "It's perfectly all right." Beverly only has half the breath for speech, but he understands. He kisses her again, then finds her eyes as if the answers to universe lie there. He reaches down, brushing wicked fingers against her until she shudders, gasping something resembling his name.

He kisses her again, gratitude soft on his lips. Their hearts are racing and the sun makes their skin gleam. The quilt he thought too nice for the field is now wrapped around their naked bodies, throughly broken in. They lie there together, arms within arms, watching the sun creep higher.

She's not sure how long they've been, but it was time more precious than years she's lived through. He fishes a leaf from her hair, straightening it with his fingers.

"Your face is flushed."

"You gave me quite a workout."

"I may be able to do better."

She laughs at that, kissing over his smirk. "Let's sleep a little before we try that."

Jean-Luc rescues her bra from the grass and warms it in his hands. "A bit damp."

"It's all right." Now that the sun's up, the day promises warmth.

"It's wonderful."

He's not talking about their clothes and she loves him for it. "It was, wasn't it?"

They kiss again, finding hope in each other.

"Something worth repeating," she says, pulling on her trousers. "Maybe in a bed."

"How novel."

She helps guide him back into his shirt, kissing him again when his face reappears. "I might be convinced."

"I'd appreciate it."

"I bet you would."

"I certainly did."

She sighs, lying back against her jacket with a wicked grin. "We could get better."

"With practice."

"Lots of practice."

He tosses the quilt over his shoulder, lowering a hand to help her up. "We have a few more days of shore leave."

"Find us breakfast and I'm yours."

Jean-Luc pauses, centimetres from her face. "A mutual arrangement, I hope."

"Oh, I'm not letting you go. You don't have to worry about that." His arm extends for hers, and they watch the sun finish passing the mountains together.

"The first of many."

He lifts her hand and kisses it, holding it close.

Deanna lifts her head as soon as they arrive back in the village. Beverly imagines they both must be radiant to an empath, and Deanna's smile is full of joy. Jean-Luc sits next to her, with Will and Geordi across from them.

"How was the sunrise?" Will's smile is almost too bright for his face and Beverly wonders if all the field isn't out of her hair.

"Wonderful." Jean-Luc says.

"What we saw of it, at least," Beverly adds, smirking at him.

Deanna chokes on her bread and has to reach for her water.

"It was a tad cloudy," Jean-Luc says, his face serene. "We may have missed a bit."

Beverly can barely breathe, but she manages not to laugh when his hand finds her knee. "We may have to try again tomorrow."

"Quite right."

Deanna's still searching for breath behind her napkin and Will pats Beverly energetically on the shoulder.

"Do keep at it until you see it."

"Oh, we will." Beverly sneaks a glance at Jean-Luc, hiding nothing.

He nods, passing Deanna a fresh glass of water. "I think we'll have to."


End file.
